Part 16 (1/2)

”Don't move,” the makeup artist snapped. ”And close your eyes.”

I obeyed.

Again I was a.s.saulted by beauty products, this time directly attacking my face, and it took all my willpower not to flinch every time a new brush or stick of goo landed on my skin. My eyes were poked and prodded, painted and then glued, my lips drawn and lined and glossed, my cheeks highlighted and lowlighted, my eyebrows plucked and redrawn.

”Good,” the makeup artist finally said. ”I've done all I can. Open your eyes.”

That sounded ominous. With trepidation, I lifted my suddenly longer lashes and looked in the mirror.

The girl who stared back at me was... well, she was a rock star girlfriend.

I barely recognized her.

”Stop admiring yourself,” Sonya said, pa.s.sing me. ”We're burning daylight.

Starting, I leapt out of the chair and followed her outside, where I heard the distinct sound of Kent Being Angry.

I looked around and finally pinpointed him-in black leather, oh G.o.d, I wanted to suck his c.o.c.k through those leather pants, what was wrong with me?-arguing with some guy wearing a baseball cap. Carter stood a few feet away, grinning. Manny stood even further away, his hands shoved into his ripped jeans, watching the proceedings as though they were high art.

I sidled over to him. Between him and Sonya, I figured I was more likely to get a straight answer from him.

”Hey,” I said.

He put his finger to his lips reverently. ”Shh,” he said. ”Kent is not getting his way.”

He said this as though it were as rare as the Holy Grail. Actually, it probably was. I clammed up and listened to the argument, but I could barely make heads or tails of it. Something about the storyboard and the music.

”Not ready,” Kent was saying. ”It's not ready and none of us have looked at the script...”

”Actually Manny and Sonya helped me write it,” Carter interjected, rocking on his heels like a little boy with a big secret.

Kent didn't even deign to give him a glance. ”It's not the song the studio commissioned,” he said.

The man, who I now a.s.sumed to be the director, shook his head. ”The studio gave me the go-ahead on it. It's last-minute, but everything's in place for this video. Now would you kindly shut the f.u.c.k up and get down to that f.u.c.king beach? We only have a few hours before sundown, and you'll be doing your sunset shots today.”

For some reason, Kent's shoulders tensed. ”I don't think-” he began.

”No,” the director said, ”you don't, I do. Now get your a.s.s down that cliff to those f.u.c.king tide pools.”

I watched as Kent clenched his fists once, twice, three times, and for a moment I was terrified that he was going to punch the director in the face. But then he whirled around.

Our eyes caught again and for a moment I thought I saw... fear?

Then he was turning away and stomping off to a small golf cart sitting a few feet away. He climbed in the back and commenced scowling at everything around him as thought he could correct the deficiencies of the universe by sheer willpower.

”What was that all about?” I asked Manny when it was clear the drama was over.

”Oh,” he said. ”Nothing much. Come on, you want to watch Sonya do the first verse?”

Not sure what else to do since no one had handed me a script yet, I followed him to the lighthouse.

We stepped inside. It was cramped and crowded, but to my shock the museum had been opened up in a big way for us. Sonya and a camera man were actually inside one of the portioned-off gla.s.s rooms, one whose windows faced west and the slowly sinking sun. The lighthouse, aside from being... well... a lighthouse, had also been the living quarters for the lighthouse keeper and his family, and Sonya was currently sitting in one of the old rooms, surrounded by ancient furniture. The floor around her was littered with fake dead leaves, and a small fan in the corner rotated, sending fresh fake leaves from a pile across the floorboards. Settling herself against the window frame, Sonya stared out into the west, at the Pacific Ocean. Extra lights and reflectors almost blocked her completely from view, but the way she was framed by the camera meant her face would be painted in light and shadow while her hair flamed around her. It would be a stunning shot, no doubt about it.

I watched as people set up and tried to look like I did this every day.

Finally things seemed to be in order. The director tapped on the gla.s.s separating Sonya and the cameraman.

”Ready?” he said. ”Let's roll.”

Then someone flipped a switch and music flooded the room.

I froze, turning to see the powerful little boom box blaring the song for the video, and for a second I couldn't place it. Then it hit me as a haunting piano melody flowed from the speakers, one that I'd heard Kent and Carter picking out in Carter's room over the past week.

The new song. The one they'd been recording in the studio not two days ago.

I turned to Manny. ”I thought this was for the most recent alb.u.m?” I whispered.

He grinned. ”Carter decided that we're going into the studio immediately after this. He wants this on as many airwaves as possible for the next month.”

Suddenly, everything made sense. ”And he didn't consult Kent about this?”

Manny just gave me a little look that I couldn't interpret, and his grin grew wider.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, and as the creeping melody began to wrap around us, the old place seemed to take on a sinister air. I peered at Sonya as she took a deep breath and realized that while she was beautiful, bathed in this music she became almost ethereal, an imprisoned ghost within this house, unable to escape.

Then Sonya began to sing along with her own voice, her green eyes piercing the camera, her beautiful mouth caressing the words, and I heard for the first time what Carter meant when he said he was going to write an alb.u.m about revenge.

Long, slow, drawn out notes. s.h.i.+very, shuddery. Dark and quiet and full of evil intent. Sonya's angelic voice fell from heaven into h.e.l.l as she sang Carter's words.

”I am deep inside you, you can't feel me but I'm here, I'm buried in your bones, you don't know I'm what you fear, your love was bitter poison and you made me disappear Now I know you...”

Holy s.h.i.+t, I thought.

”I will bide my time, you won't remember my name, but I will ricochet like a bullet to your brain, you reached down deep inside me and you only gave me pain, now I'll show you...

I'll give it back again.”

s.h.i.+vers raced up and down my spine. The music clicked off and I heard the director telling Sonya they should get everything they needed in two more takes, but all of that seemed far away. If I'd heard the song on the radio, it would have blown me away, but hearing it here, and knowing it was written for me, written as revenge against the guy who used me for four long years... it chilled me in ways I couldn't describe, and I loved it.

When Carter wrote about revenge, he didn't f.u.c.k around.

Someone touched my arm and I jumped about a foot in the air. The spell of the music shattered, and, annoyed, I turned and saw a young man staring at me impatiently.

”We need you on the cliffs,” he said. ”We'll probably only get one good sunset, so we have to get everything in today.”

”Everywhat in today?” I asked, but he was already striding off. Casting one glance back at Sonya, I followed him out of the lighthouse.

”We need multiple shots of you standing on the cliff,” the guy was saying as he led me across the scrubby gra.s.s and mud. He glanced back at me and frowned. ”You're not wearing a dress?”

I scowled back at him. ”No,” I said. ”I don't look good in dresses.”